


a fine line between rage and romance

by random_chick



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_chick/pseuds/random_chick
Summary: In this moment, he’ll let Ed Nygma frighten him until the end.





	a fine line between rage and romance

Oswald doesn’t think anything of it when Ed shows up on his doorstep a week after being turned over to Strange. (He will later think that maybe he should have.) It’s Ed, after all. Edward Nygma. The Riddler, as much as he usually hates acknowledging that stupid, stupid name. (As deserved as it may be.) The Riddler is the one who brings his Ed back to him, the man with the wicked intelligence and addicting smile. Of course he’s not going to _mind_ Ed showing up.

He just steps back and lets Ed in, like he’s always let the other man in, another spin of the Bad Decision Roulette Wheel. After all, Lee isn’t with him, why would Oswald turn Ed away?

When Oswald asks about that, about Lee, Ed just brushes it aside. She doesn’t matter, he says. She’s in the past. She’s done with. And Oswald’s too grateful to hear that to worry about it. He files it away to deal with later, of course. He’s not _stupid_. But he isn’t worrying about it at that moment.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

Oswald watches as Ed sprawls on the couch, long and lanky and perfectly him even without that damn green suit. There’s still green, though, because he wouldn’t be him without it. Something feels off, but Oswald can’t place it. He’s not surprised, though. Hugo Strange works on you and you’re not going to come out of it all sunshine and puppies and perfect.

He doesn’t care, he’s just glad Ed’s still alive.

Heart still beating fast -- it always does around Ed, he has to remind himself -- he settles into a chair across the living room. For a long moment, he just looks at the other man. The one he can’t call his friend, can’t call more, because it’s complicated. It’s good to see him, though. He knows they have things to figure out, a lot of things, but they can address those later.

In the morning. He’s not _that_ wrapped up in Ed’s return, not so warm and fuzzy as to forget what needs to be done.

It’s a while longer, the time full of sitting there and watching each other in a strange sort of contentment, before Oswald heads off to bed. He can’t help but think that every concern aside, it’s good to know that the other man’s alive to be there in the morning.

 

He wakes to the light-sharp feel of something sharp trailing down his cheek. Wisely, he goes still, because the next thing that happens is Ed leaning in and whispering in his ear. “Wakey wakey, Oswald.”

Oswald freezes. He doesn’t know what’s going on, what Ed’s up to, but something isn’t right. It’s not wrong, but it isn’t right. There’s a subtle difference between those that most people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t even count, but he does and Ed does and that’s all that matters.

“Good,” Ed murmurs, pressing cool metal flat against Oswald’s cheek, and Oswald realizes it’s a scalpel. He barely has time to wonder where Ed got it from before the other man is pressing the tip against his cheek again, ever so lightly, lightly enough that if Oswald couldn’t already see it, he wouldn’t even know.

So he closes his eyes.

That gets a laugh out of Ed, genuinely delighted, and Oswald has the fleeting thought that he’ll still do anything to make the other man laugh like that. _Anything_.

And he doesn’t question why.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

Oswald breathes slowly, carefully, because he doesn’t know what’s going to set Ed off and he doesn’t want to hit that until he figures it out. He’s not going to look too closely tonight at why he’s willing to hit it at all, he’ll just figure it out first.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Ed says, shifting the scalpel so he’s holding it properly once more. “You’re the one who saved me, who got me to Strange and told him to save me. And Lee, of course.” It’s said off-handedly, like he really _doesn’t_ care, and some part of Oswald, a very large part, is glad to hear it.

The scalpel trails along Ed’s cheek, he can feel a little more pressure, and then there it is. Ed making a “tsk tsk” noise -- Oswald knows what Ed wants. Not what’ll set him off, but what he wants.

He wants Oswald to bleed.

Oswald has two choices, he knows. Fight and get away, or give in and let Ed win. He freezes for a second, a split second, torn. He’s smart, he’s scared. He may still be in love with Ed -- he’s never _not_ been in love with Ed -- but he knows that right now, something’s not right and the man could hurt him. Possibly even _wants_ to.

And it’s not in the fun way.

But does he want to risk it? Does he honestly want to risk God knows what kind of harm? It’s Ed, though. Ed with a scalpel trailing slowly along his cheek, down his neck, and if Oswald’s not careful --

\-- he rolls slowly onto his back, baring his throat, taking a risk without really thinking about it.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

Ed laughs again, that same delighted laugh, and Oswald feels himself slipping a little further towards the precipice. He promises himself he won’t go over the edge. It’s okay to let go a _little_ more, though, right?

All Ed does is shift, straddling Oswald to get a better position. Oswald whimpers, shifting under Ed, and he’ll readily admit this isn’t exactly how he imagined being beneath his friend.

Except it sort of is, and the heady rush of even halfway getting what he’s wanted for so long draws a small moan from him and a grin from Ed.

And then the scalpel glides along Oswald’s throat, lightly, just enough to draw a faint line of blood but not nearly enough to do anything. He suppresses a shiver, because he doesn’t want to push too hard. Doesn’t want to end this too fast. Doesn’t know how this game is supposed to play out. Doesn’t know if this _is_ a game.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

He looks to Ed, meets his eyes, and _sees_ the something there that made him realize something really isn’t right. A touch of madness that doesn’t belong to anyone else inside his friend. Not Edward, not the Riddler. No, this is Ed gone… wrong? Broken? Lost? Oswald doesn’t know, wasn’t told what Strange did, and he didn’t ask.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

He gasps as Ed shifts the scalpel, deftly flipping it away to hold it between the fingers of the hand that had just a moment ago been using that taunting metal against his skin. He’s a step behind -- an odd but not entirely surprising position in and of itself for the Penguin to be in -- and all he can do is go along with it as Ed pulls his pajama shirt up. He wants it off, so off it goes. When it’s another part of that something Oswald’s wanted, why is he going to fight it?

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

“That’s better,” Ed says, tapping the blade against Oswald’s cheek. “That’s much better.”

The way he says it makes Oswald shiver. Ed’s always been able to unravel him, and now… well, now’s the exact opposite. Now Ed has him wound up and coiled tightly, needing release in more than one way. He looks at the man, searching his face for any hint of what’s going on behind those eyes. He finds nothing.

Ed’s been studying him at the same time as he was studying Ed, and Oswald isn’t sure what he’s expecting but it’s not for the scalpel to trace slowly down the middle of his chest. It’s idle movement, though, not boredom but something for Ed’s fingers to do while he’s trying to decide what he _really_ wants to do. And when the decision’s made, Oswald stays still.

Only because Edward is deliberately drawing blood on one cheek now, and Oswald isn’t particularly fond of the idea of ripping a scar into his face if he moves wrong. He knows Ed wouldn’t be happy with it, either. So he lays there, still, concentrating on the focused look on the other man’s face. It’s a beautiful expression, really, beautiful and more than a little frightening in its intensity. He wants to be frightened right now, though. In this moment, he’ll let Ed Nygma frighten him until the end.

He doesn’t know what the end’s going to be, though, except he has a feeling he knows where this is going after all. Somewhere in the darkest back part of his mind, something whispers.

_He’s trying to break you._

Another part of him whispers back.

_I know._

Because Oswald does know himself, knows the way Ed’s called to him for years, and he knows that he won’t make it through this. Won’t get through this and come out the other side unbroken. But that’s okay, because it’s Ed. He’s always thought it’s okay as long as it’s Ed.

He gasps when Ed leans down, and licks the blood from his cheek. He lets out an almost sobbing laugh as he bites back words that didn’t get him anywhere before. He’s not that far gone yet.

“I can’t be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance,” Ed whispered in Oswald’s ear, breath warm against his skin. “I’m useless to one, but priceless to two.”

Oswald’s breath catches in his throat again. He remembers that riddle, the last time he heard it -- the mayoral election. Ed had said it before he’d won, and he’d repeated it back after. The answer’s love, of course it’s love, but if Ed’s the one saying it, then…

“Made by God in pairs, separated at birth on Earth. Found after years of search, inseparable for the rest of the time. What am I?”

That’s a new one to Oswald, and it takes him a moment to come up with the answer, a moment during which his brain is utterly scrambled and he’s fighting to make it work anyway because he doesn’t have a choice right now.

And then he gets it. Soulmates. The answer is soulmates. But why is Ed giving him that --

\-- Ed lets out an irritated huff by his ear, and he realizes he must’ve let out a confused noise. So he just quiets and lets Ed continue.

It turns out Ed’s idea of continuing is to lick at the still-bleeding cut again…

… and then kiss Oswald.

Oswald lets out a sob as he returns the kiss, tentatively, finally getting what he’s wanted for so long. What he’s told himself he doesn’t care about anymore. Except it’s a lie he’s been telling himself, and he knows it’s a lie, he’s always known it was a lie. He’s sure Ed was able to tell, too -- even with his damnable devotion to Lee -- and of course, of _course_ , that’s why he’s doing this.

It has to be. Because Oswald doesn’t want to look any closer at it.

(He will later think that maybe he should have.)

“Say it,” Ed gasps when he breaks the kiss. “Say it.”

“I love you,” Oswald manages. “I love you, Ed.”

And that is when Oswald Cobblepot breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm pretty sure nothing but bad's going to go down for Ed and his sanity... we get this.
> 
> Also known as, what happens when I talk to a friend about kink memes and blood play.


End file.
